


(almost) a really nice date

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Chair Sex, Comfort, Control Issues, Cooking, Coulson is a really good cook, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feeding Kink, Flirting, Friendship, Kissing, Kitchen Sex, Light Dom/sub, Love, Making Out, Oral Sex, Relationship(s), Secret Missions, Sexual Content, Skoulson RomFest 2k15 REDUX, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skoulson RomFest 2k15 REDUX - DAY 7 · 26 July - free theme!<br/>Skye and Coulson get closer and lines are crossed!  Domestic fluff and food + porn with feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(almost) a really nice date

“Think you can pull this off?”

“With the right team? Or by myself?” she grinned.

He raised his eyebrows and refused to humor her.

Mostly.

Everything was _mostly_ with her lately.

“After all,” he said moving to the fridge. “If we want to keep you up to your ears in this stuff,” he continued, holding the packet wrapped in butcher paper aloft.

“We need more funding.”

He tossed it on the counter and bent down to get a cast iron skillet out from one of the cabinets.

“C’mon,” she teased, running her fingers through her shorter, still shower-wet hair. “You know I’m a cheap date.”

Staring at her laptop screen, distracted, she threw out, “Quake fuel.”

He opened the freezer and found a stick of butter, tossed it next to the package.

“You'd think someone would catch on to HYDRA running a casino,” she said dryly, typing on the keys.

“Talbot thinks it's the mafia,” he tutted.

“He wouldn't be too far off,” she answered, thinking of Ward's prison gang organization. “Founded by Hitler Youth: The Sequel.”

“He's like Jason,” Coulson said, taking out the carton of eggs. “Just when you think he’s down for good...”

“Huh,” she huffed in agreement, then looked pleadingly up at him. “Please tell me you're making something that is going to erase this week from my memory?”

“I am,” he replied, looking up at her with a very confident smirk.

She closed her laptop and leaned forward to rest her face on her hand, as he gathered a few more things out of the cabinets and drawers.

Losing was bad. Losing to Ward was…personal. She was itching to hit him where it hurt.

“Have I told you how valuable you are to this operation?” she said, blinking slowly at him, trying to think of more pleasant things, as the sweater slipped off one of her shoulders.

“I could always hear it again,” he answered, turning on the oven and the gas burner as high as it would go.

“You are _crucial_ ,” she went on, pulling up on her sleeve. “You probably don't even realize the ways-“

“Because I stay awake on your movie nights and watch the same movie twice because you fall asleep?”

She sat up a bit straighter.

“I was going to mention how you always have my back in the field,” she said. “But, okay, _yeah_ …”

“I wouldn't leave you out there. Exposed,” he said quietly, seeming serious for a moment, then unwrapped the paper, taking out the steaks and grabbing the salt and pepper to season both sides.

“And you always defer to me, when I design the ops,” she began. “Even when I can tell you might disagree-“

“Possibly on a few minor points, if that. It's your operation, Skye,” he said raising his eyebrows to look over at her, before laying down the steaks in the skillet. “I want you to own it. This was just a battle-“

“Not the war,” she finished.

The kitchen got smoky for a second before he switched on the fan. She watched him work, his sleeves rolled up and a look of determination his face.

Since he brought up the movie thing, though, she thought about how he also brought her some bubble bath a couple weeks back.

Because she’d complained a little about not sleeping well, and that she couldn’t shut her thoughts off at night.

Really, because he’d asked if she was getting any sleep to begin with. She looked so tired, she knew it, trying to split her time between SHIELD and this.

But it was the _really fancy_ kind, in a French bottle. With handwriting and everything. And the bubbles smelled like real lavender and not fake.

It was probably expensive. Or something.

This was all adding up, as she watched him uncork a bottle of wine, pouring himself a glass to taste it.

“This is almost like a really nice date.”

She was thinking out loud again, and he looked like he was choking.

“What?!”

Putting down his glass, he took the skillet and shoved it in the oven, then wiped his hands on the towel on the door’s handle.

“That would be against protocol,” he muttered.

“All these nice things you've been doing for me. They're kind of... _romantic_ ,” she continued, making sure he saw her shrug.

He frowned at her for a moment, a penetrating look on his face.

“You held my hand after I had my surgery.” She watched his shoulders tense. “And I didn't think we were going steady,” he added.

What was this, a competition?

“I wanted you to feel supported, _and_ ,” she said, looking away, “People don't go steady anymore.”

“I did. And says who?” he answered, cracking the eggs and separating the yolks into a small bowl, with his eyes still on hers.

“Anyway, she continued, ignoring that he was showing off his culinary dexterity (even with a robot hand), “I was just discerning a pattern, and now you've corrected me-“

“You brought me coffee every morning and put on records,” he went on, defensively.

“I was always there before you. Just being thoughtful.”

“You wrote ‘Good morning’ on my Post Its and said I was your hero. _And_ ,” he pointed accusingly. “You made a heart.”

“One time,” she said rolling her eyes. “During a rough patch.”

“Even so.”

He was concentrating now, adding his egg mixture slowly to the warm butter.

“Did you think it was inappropriate?” she asked, a little sad at the thought.

“ _Wildly_ ,” he said, focusing. “Which is…why…”

Pausing he dragged it out dramatically, stirring, then raised his eyes at her.

“I liked it so much.”

The corner of her mouth tugged upward as she caught his eyes and he tried not to completely destroy his sauce, as he continued stirring.

“You're my most favorite human.”

“You're my _only_ Inhuman friend.”

“Pfft. What about Lincoln?” she asked, biting back a smile. It’s not like he was looking at her, anyway.

“I don't think he likes me very much.”

“I don't either.”

“Whatever. Bet his hollandaise sauce sucks,” he said, and poured it into a bowl to cool.

He pulled the steaks out of the oven and set them on the counter to rest.

“Oh!” he said, remembering, then going to the fridge. He took out a bundle of asparagus and quickly washed it, snapping off the ends.

He eyed the microwave in a moment of weakness, then grabbed a paper towel and wiped out the skillet before putting some butter in it and turning the heat back on.

“This won’t be long.”

Skye got up out of her seat and walked over to the steaks looking at him push the asparagus around in the skillet.

She dipped her finger into the hollandaise and put it to her mouth.

“Mmm…,” she closed her eyes. “I feel…deeply _loved_.”

She opened them and looked back at him staring at her like he was a little afraid.

“And I will do _anything_ for a bite of that steak right now,” she added, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Anything?” he asked, opening a drawer with his free hand and pulling out a steak knife.

“Just ask.”

He handed it to her.

“For you to watch the Director's Cut of Blade Runner with me, in its entirety, without falling asleep.”

“Deal,” she said, sounding a bit disappointed, she cut the end off of one steak and dipped it into the sauce, then slid it into her mouth.

“ _Coulson_...”

He watched her close her eyes and her fingers gripping the counter.

“Skye?”

“You have to try this,” she said, opening her eyes with a burst of energy.

“In a second,” he said, shutting off the flame, and taking the pan off the heat.

She cut off another piece and dipped it in the sauce then held it up for him.

After looking like he was having second thoughts, he shifted his weight to one hip. “Oh, alright.”

He let her push it into his mouth, then ate it as she licked the extra sauce off her fingers.

“Amazing, right?”

“Complicated,” he eked out of the side of his mouth, then finished chewing and swallowed.

She slowly let a smile stretch across her face.

“So…this is…not a date?” she asked, following him with her eyes, moving away to get them some plates.

“No?” he answered back unconvincingly, after a moment.

“No?” she replied back. “Okay,” she said, dipping her index down into the hollandaise again.

As she drew it towards her mouth, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.

She could barely breathe as he slid his lips down over her knuckle and sucked the sauce off noisily.

“It’s complicated,” he repeated, taking her hand in his.

“Story of my life,” she rapidly muttered, before pulling on the front of his shirt until their lips were pressed together.

It took a moment for the shock to wear off, then she felt his hands on her waist, light at first, and then drawing her in closer to him, as she deepened the kiss.

“ _Skye_ ,” he whispered her name between them, as she grazed her teeth over his lower lip, he moved to pin her between his hips and the counter.

He groaned as she pulled back to look at him, hands balanced on the counter edge, flushed and breathing deeply.

“I’ve never had a hollandaise kiss before,” she said.

“Me neither,” he cleared his throat, his brain starting to catch up to his body. “We should eat.”

“Then-“

“Then,” he added, hearing her stomach grumble. “We should talk.”

“You think so?” she asked, as he backed off.

She sighed and turned to put the food on the plates for them, his hand touching her shoulder, careful and comforting.

Her fingers picked up a piece of asparagus from the plate and then dipped it in the sauce as she turned and brushed the tip of it against his lips.

Mouth opening, his tongue slipped over it before he snapped it off in his mouth with his teeth.

She took a bite of it after, then squirmed a little when she felt his hands slide up along the bare skin of her thighs, until the tips of his fingers slipped beneath the leg of her shorts.

As she closed her eyes with a moan, he picked up the fork, he stabbed at a piece of the steak and fed it to her, then put the fork back down and slid his hands up under her sweater, feeling her ribs rising and falling, running his hand over her bare breast, dipping his mouth towards her throat, to press it against her pulse.

“Coulson…”

A groan escaped from his lips, humming against her, the feeling of her using the edge of the counter as leverage to grind her hips against his.

“Phil,” he answered, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to be the SHIELD guy.”

She stopped moving, and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.

Then her hands were on his face, her eyes staring into his warm and bright.

“ _Phil_.”

Kissing him again, this time more slowly, languidly, her fingers going to work on the buttons of his shirt as he took another bite.

After she had tugged his shirt out from his slacks, she picked up her wine glass, and took a long sip, running her fingers down his collarbone, across the scar on his chest, down to his stomach, tracing the corner of his hip with her thumb.

“We should skip to dessert,” he said, sliding his hands down the back of her shorts, lifting her up against him, his fingers pressing softly into her skin.

“That’s a line,” she laughed at him. “What kind of date is this?”

He took her hand, “It’s not a date.”

Leading her out of the kitchen with him, he stopped at the round dining table and tapped the surface with his fingers.

“Because I’m dessert?” she said, trying not to blush a little.

“Yeah,” he replied, with a very confident smirk.

She slid onto the top and then he leaned his arms against the table, kissing her slowly, as she returned it, relaxing into it and pulling his body down into hers, wanting him in between her thighs.

His hands raced up beneath her sweater again, and he finally tugged it over her head, tossing it to the floor as she slipped the rest of his shirt down his arms.

Then trying to be smooth wasn’t really working for him anymore. He leaned down over her and could feel her all around him. Her sounds, the smell of her skin, the feel of her breasts pressed against him.

  
Their fingers met at the same time, between her legs, and he laughed at how impatient she was.

Always on the same page.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, easily pressing a finger into her, so tight and hot.

“I’m not going to last,” he said, meeting her eyes.

“It’s alright,” she said, her lips parting as he added another finger. “Me neither.”

Pulling the shorts down over her knees and off her legs, he buried his mouth in between them, pressing his tongue into her as she pulled at his hair, taken apart by the unexpected gesture.

She came so quickly, as soon as his tongue slid over her clit.

“You’re right,” she said, looking up at him lazily. “This isn’t a date.”

“No,” he agreed with a slow shake of his head, his hair standing in several different directions.

Sitting up, he made room for her, as she pulled apart the belt and unzipped his pants, palming him through his boxer briefs.

“ _Skye_.”

“I want to give you something,” she said, stroking him, pressing her tongue against his mouth.

He tipped his head back, trying to control the way his body reacted to her voice, her touch on him, as her other hand scraped along his chest lightly, making contact with a nipple.

Feeling him jump in her hand, she stood off of the table, then worked down his pants and his briefs, guiding him back against one of the kitchen chairs behind him, touching his shoulders until he sat down on it.

Then she climbed over him, sliding her legs over his hips, her chest against his, kissing him slowly as he lifted her hips to get inside of her, then pulling her against him, demanding, like he couldn’t possibly get enough of her.

She swept her hips over his, as his hands touched her breasts, her thighs, their faces pressed together, getting caught up how close he felt to her right now.

How much she knew exactly what he needed. Feeling himself caught between her and the chair, as she moved faster, her breath hot against his face, the warm waterfall starting to trickle through his body.

“Fuck. _Skye_.”

“Getting close,” she said, moving slowly, but tightly. “You’re so good at taking care of me, Phil.”

He held onto her hips, thrusting up into her, fighting the feeling of wanting her to be in control and wanting to come.

“I want you to come for me,” she said, watching him, hands cupping his face.

Her words pulled it right out of him, as he groaned against her chest, holding onto her.

Trying to catch his breath, he pressed his face into her shoulder, as she smoothed down his hair, and touched the fine sheen of sweat against his forehead.

“Definitely not a date,” he huffed.

“Are you still hungry?” she asked, raising her eyebrows when he met her eyes.

“Yes,” he answered, then kissed her.

“Me, too.”

 


End file.
